


Gravity

by starrynoctsky (lightinthehall)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Brief Description of Torture, Dubious Consent, Hurt Noctis Lucis Caelum, Injury, M/M, Wing Kink, Wings, wing fondling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24748840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightinthehall/pseuds/starrynoctsky
Summary: A hand reaches between the bars, and Noctis is too slow to move away before he’s grabbed by the chin, forcing him to look up into golden-amber eyes. The thumb traces Noctis’ jaw in a mock caress, the ruffles of the man’s sleeves brushing his cheek.“Well done,” the Chancellor murmurs, turning Noctis’ face back and forth as if inspecting an exotic pet.
Relationships: Ardyn Izunia/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 12
Kudos: 97
Collections: Ardynoct DS





	Gravity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Exaigon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exaigon/gifts).



> For exaigon's prompt: Wing Fic! Noctis ends up stranded with a broken wing and Ardyn finds him
> 
> Thank you so much for the prompt! I adore wingfic so much, I hope you enjoy <3 And thank you to wooden deer for being a patient beta buddy. <3!!!

Noctis’ back is on fire.

It must be, judging from the searing pain across his nerves, his muscle, his skin. The dulling veil of unconsciousness lifts, leaving Noctis with a burning that starts from his shoulder blades and spreads up, up, up. He curls into himself, trying to escape from the agony, one arm reaching out weakly.

_Potion. Elixir,_ he tries to ask with his outstretched hand.

“He’s waking up.”

That’s not Ignis’ voice.

“Finally,” someone else sneers. Not Gladio. Not Prompto.

He forces his eyes open against the pain, blinded by the lamp shining brightly above him. Two dark figures stand in front of him, faces shadowed by the light, vertical slats breaking up their silhouettes.

… _bars_ , Noctis realizes.

He’s in a cage.

In a flash, he lunges up against the barrier, slamming into the bars hard enough to rattle the metal. He curses furiously at his captors, reaching out with clawed hands.

The shadows don’t even flinch.

“Oh ho, he’s not happy.” From this angle, Noctis can see the shorter man’s face, the sweep of blond hair, the heavy armour of the Imperial army.

“Loqi,” he hisses. The adrenaline rush ends, and his reckless movements take their toll, fire licking across his back once again. His sinks down as his legs give out, the last of his energy burst fading, leaving him panting, slumped forward and leaning heavily on the bars.

_Fuck_. How did he get here? Where are his friends?

He prods frantically at the armiger, feeling for the familiar threads of his retinue. Three faint, little pulses of blue carry back to him. His friends are far away, but they’re alive.

_Stop and assess_. He can hear Cor’s stern voice from years and years ago, when the Crownsguard had taught him what to do, how to act during kidnapping situations. _Identify where you are, who your captors are. Their weaknesses. The escape routes. Above all, put your safety first. We will find you. Your father will find you._

Noct’s eyes sting, the loss of his father still a gaping wound barely held together with frayed bandages and tape. No. His father won’t be coming for him. His friends could still be in danger.

This is a problem he has to solve on his own.

He surveys the room, taking in the cold metal walls covered in glowing electrical circuits. The chamber is cramped, but big enough to hold a coeurl-sized cage. There are dark, puddled stains on the ground that Noctis doesn’t want to think about. He’s the sole occupant of the cage for now – thank the Astrals – but the bars are as thick as Noct’s wrist. The engine blade won’t do him any good there.

All around him is the low rumble of an engine that Noctis recognizes from countless encounters.

A magitek airship.

“This is quite the catch, General Tummelt.”

The second man turns away from Noctis to face Loqi. Tufts of his greying hair curls out from beneath his Imperial helmet. He’s taller and bulkier in the same uniform, though the deep-red banner slung over his arm is noticeably more decorated than Loqi’s.

“Now you can see why I must meet with the Emperor right away.”

“As per new orders, anyone seeking an audience with Emperor Iedolas must meet with the Chancellor first.”

Noctis’ head turns at that, in time to see Loqi scoff. “That’s ridiculous. The name of House Tummelt should allow my access straight into Zegnautus.”

“It’s strictly forbidden, I’m afraid. Have patience, the Chancellor is on his way.”

Loqi makes a frustrated noise but is quickly silenced by one grave look from his senior. 

Zegnautus… the Imperial Keep. They’re taking Noctis to the Niflheim capital.

Noctis feels around his tattered uniform for his cell phone, his jacket is gone, and his shirt is torn open from a wide slash across his chest that’s still stinging. His arms and legs are sore, bruised but otherwise fine.

He’d been trying to suppress the terrible pain in his back, but the loose, bloodied feathers beneath his boots confirm his suspicions. Biting his lower lip, he slowly extends his right wing, trying not to attract the attention of his two captors. He feels the muscles in his back flex as his right wing is raised, trembling but successful. He gently folds it back in and tries his left, but the immediate agony that lances through him leaves him gasping.

It’s broken.

He can’t fly, he can’t even vanish them in this state.

Through angry tears, Noctis’ eyes dart back and forth between the two soldiers. Their armour plating is thick, but the gaps between the plates are perfect for him to sink a dagger into. Except with his wings weighing him down, it wouldn’t be difficult for the other soldier to overpower him, even without weapons.

Loqi catches Noct’s assessing glance. “Don’t even try it.”

Heavy footsteps echo throughout the room as Loqi walks away, swiping something off the lonely food tray sitting in the corner. There’s a _clang!_ upon metal, rattling the entire cage.

“How’s this? Does the pretty bird want a snack?” Loqi holds up a square between his gloved fingers, waving it back and forth before tossing it at Noct’s feet.

It bounces off the ground, scattering into pieces, but Noctis still recognizes it for what it is.

A cracker.

Furious, Noctis scrambles to his feet, pushing away at the pain. Responding to his anger, his wings unfurl, stretching high and wide behind him – or at least they try to. His injured left wing drops heavily, and Noctis is left unbalanced, forced to cling to the bars to steady himself.

Panting, he levels a glare at Loqi’ sneering face.

“That’s what you Lucian Kings get for showing off, isn’t it? Those big wings make for easy targets.”

Shaking with fury, Noctis lifts a hand, the engine blade clear in his mind. Ancestral magic coalesces within his palm and he can _feel_ the hilt of his blade when shocks suddenly seize his entire body. His muscles contract painfully, as if Ramuh’s might had been turned against him. He’s writhing and gasping against the cold metal floor, his wings twitching around him like they’ve been cut.

His strangled yell is still echoing through the room when the shock wave fully recedes, leaving him hoarse, coughing out spit and bile. His hand lifts from the growing pile of wilted black feathers upon the ground, and his shaking fingers find the metal collar around his neck.

Loqi laughs, and shame floods Noctis in a terrible wave. The other soldier says nothing, merely staring down at Noctis with a cold, dispassionate stare.

Noctis has never paid attention to status or demanding respect from those around him. But it’s unbearable to be here, a captured King, collared and caged to be mocked and tortured at the hands of his enemies.

The airship lurches and shudders around them. They haven’t been flying long enough to reach Gralea, they must have landed somewhere…

“Uh oh, you should behave,” Loqi says. Noctis is eye-level with his armored boots, but the smirk clear in his tone. “If you don’t impress the Chancellor, you’ll never get to meet the Emperor.”

Noctis grits his teeth.

A mechanical whirr interrupts Loqi’s gloating, and a rectangle of light appears in the far wall as another figure steps into the room.

“Oh my, what do we have here?”

At the sound of his voice, Noctis’ head jerks up. Ardyn saunters over to the cage, his dark-auburn hair in its constant fly-away state, his wide hat, layered coat and frilled sleeves a distinct contrast to the heavily armoured men next to him.

“I present the King of the scum of Eos, Your Honour,” Loqi says, stepping aside to show off his prisoner.

A hand reaches between the bars, and Noctis is too slow to move away before he’s grabbed by the chin, forcing him to look up into golden-amber eyes. The thumb traces Noctis’ jaw in a mock caress, the ruffles of the man’s sleeves brushing his cheek.

“Well done,” the Chancellor murmurs, turning Noctis’ face back and forth as if inspecting an exotic pet. Noctis glares at him, trying to pull his head away, but the man’s grip only tightens.

“You are both dismissed.”

Behind him, Loqi’s face transforms from smug satisfaction to indignation. The other general salutes, not bothering to spare Noctis a look as he leaves.

Loqi remains rooted where he’s standing, apparently reluctant to leave his prize catch.

“Pardon me, Your Excellency, but –”

“ _Leave_ ,” Ardyn repeats in a tone so icy and hostile that even the light in the room seems to retreat. Loqi’s mouth snaps shut, and he scowls in Noct’s direction before his boots echo throughout the room once more, a mechanical whirr signalling his exit.

“Let go of me,” Noctis snarls through clenched teeth, finding his voice now that they’re alone.

Ardyn hums, pressing his thumb hard into Noct’s cheek. “How hurtful. And what a different tune you’re singing today. Considering the nature of our last encounter, surely you can look past such trivial things such as my _title_?”

“I didn’t know. I would never have –”

“But you did, Your Majesty.” Ardyn leans in close, his breath hot on Noctis’ cheeks. “Tell me, dear Noct, would it have changed anything? You begged me so sweetly that night.”

Heat crawls up Noct’s neck in a shameful, angry flush. Ardyn breaks into a laugh, low and cruel, finally releasing him.

Jaw aching, Noctis catches himself on his elbows, humiliation curling his hands into fists upon the cold floor.

That night shouldn’t have happened. It’s true, Noctis hadn’t known who Ardyn was – hadn’t known exactly who’d been pressing him into the worn camper bed at the time. He’d just known that the strange, irritating man’s pointed smiles and lingering touches left him hot, wanting. Once his friends had fallen asleep, Noctis found himself knocking on the man’s camper door.

The next day, as Titan raged and the ground broke apart beneath Noctis’ feet, he’d finally learned Ardyn’s true identity.

The Chancellor of Niflheim. A high official of the nation responsible for the destruction of his home, the death of his father. He’d run the Leville’s shower so hot and for so long that there hadn’t been any hot water left for his friends. And he still hasn’t felt clean since.

There’s a clatter, followed by a creaking of heavy, metal hinges. Noctis looks up to see Ardyn stepping into the cage.

“What -” Noctis is so shocked he forgets about his armiger, forgets to try and make a desperate escape through the unlatched door. Instead he levers himself onto his elbows, trying to drag himself away, kicking at Ardyn’s legs.

The man easily dodges Noctis’ boots, crouching down next to him.

“Sit up, Your Majesty. I assure you if you try to run now you won’t get far, thanks to the handy piece of technology around your neck.” Ardyn sits back onto the lone bench within the cage and hauls Noctis up with surprising strength, pulling him astride his lap, leaving his wings trailing lifelessly behind him.

The position is humiliating in its familiarity. Noctis tries to scramble away, jolting when fingers begin running over his wingtip, gliding over the feathers of his limp, folded wing. “Get the _fuck_ off m – _ahhhn_.”

He bites down on his lip, shaking as Ardyn continues his assault, his fingers dipping beneath the quills and reaching down to the base of soft down, closest to the most sensitive nerve endings.

The pain wracks through him once again, but the underlayer of pleasure is what has Noctis trembling, arching in Ardyn’s hold. He strikes at the man’s chest and shoulders, trying to push him away, trying to wrench free.

Very few people have touched Noctis’ wings. _No one_ but Noctis’ future spouse is meant to touch him where Ardyn is so blithely stroking him.

_Wrong. This is wrong._

“Stop – stop.”

He tries and fails not to sound like some scandalized maiden. Back in Insomnia, touching a royal’s wings would net punishment of the highest order. While the wings are formidable and strong in battle, in the end, they’re an extension of their power, their souls.

Noctis’ wings had been especially sensitive after the marilith had slashed through them when he was a child. Ever since, he’d only ever tolerated his father’s kind hands, or his friends’ careful touches.

“I must say, you look so lovely covered in blood, Noct,” Ardyn says, his sultry, honeyed voice intimate and warm in Noctis’ ears. He remains unceasing in his caresses. Noctis squirms in his lap, hating how much his body responds to the touch, how the pain is paired with the pleasure, agony tinged with helpless arousal.

“The colour is remarkable, isn’t it? Dark as the night,” Ardyn continues.

“My family has always had black wings,” Noctis says, trying and failing to keep his voice from shaking. Stop. Make it stop. _Why is he telling him this?_

“Indeed?” Ardyn asks, and Noctis’ eyes flicker up, surprised at the menacing, underlying bite to Ardyn’s words. “How majestic. The colour of kings.”

Lost in his touches, Noctis is pulled out of his stupor when the Chancellor’s hands reach the point of the break. “Don’t move.”

Noctis tries to crane his neck to look back at what Ardyn is doing, but can’t quite manage. He tenses, a cold sweat gathering at his nape as he waits for the blinding stab of pain that his enemy is surely about to inflict on him.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, warmth emanates beneath Ardyn’s palms, and Noctis feels a chilling numbness spreading from his left side.

The pain is slowly receding.

In disbelief, he tests his wing, his eyes widening as it extends painlessly, the wingtip brushing against the edge of the cage.

“How - how did you do that?” Noctis stares as he flexes and folds his wing with ease. It’s as if it had never been broken. As far as he knows, only Oracles and Lucian kings had the power to heal. And Niflheim abhors magic. _Who is he?_

Ardyn’s head is bowed, expression shadowed by the brim of his hat. Frustration and confusion seizes him, and Noctis yanks the hat off the man’s head and throws it onto the ground. “ _Why_ did you heal me?”

Noctis’ breath catches as he sees the inky stains across the whites of Ardyn’s hateful eyes. He stares in horror as the darkness fades to normalcy. Ardyn meets Noctis’ gaze and raises his brow, a mocking smile splitting his face. With slow, deliberate movements, the man fixes the auburn strands that had fallen askew.

“It’s merely a trick I learned long ago. There’s so little that you understand, _Chosen King_.”

“Gods, enough with the riddles! Why are you helping me?”

Ardyn tilts his head. His handsome features trained into a maddening calmness. “I need you to do something for me, Your Majesty, and it doesn’t involve dying from blood loss on the way to Niflheim.”

“What in Ifrit’s abyss do you mean by that?”

“You’ll learn soon enough.”

It’s all too much.

Growling, Noctis fists Ardyn’s heavy collar and pulls. Their mouths collide, messy and sharp with teeth. Noctis can feel Ardyn’s taunting smirk beneath his lips, and it only drives him to kiss him harder, matching him bite for bite and sucking desperately on the man’s tongue as it invades his mouth.

Ardyn muffles Noctis’ moans, catching Noct’s bottom lip with his teeth, biting hard enough to cause soft flesh to swell, to bleed.

He rests his thumb at the corner of Noct’s mouth, admiring the sensitive pink of scruff-scraped skin. “It is such a shame. If only I could keep you, you’d make a stunning centrepiece – a precious, beautiful creature within a gilded cage. Perhaps above my bed? We could trade this hideous collar for something, pretty and jeweled. What do you think?”

“ _Fuck you,_ ” Noctis hisses as Ardyn smears the taste of iron over Noct’s stinging lips, then leans down to lick it away.

Arms encircle Noct’s waist, a large hand sliding up, spanning the space between the roots of Noct’s wings, pressing him flush against Ardyn’s larger, firm body.

Knowing fingers burrow their way beneath his feathers once more, digging in and playing across Noctis’ nerves with intimate strokes. His wings quiver, the sensations shooting straight to Noctis’ cock, breathless little moans falling from his mouth. He shudders, and with one well-placed touch, his wings flare out as his back arches, spreading high and wide above them.

“Beautiful,” Ardyn coos, running his hand from Noct’s nape to the base of his wings once more. “I could pin you down, keep you spread out for me…”

Heavy footsteps echo outside their chamber and before Noctis realizes it, he’s snapped his wings down completely encompassing the two of them, covering them both in darkness.

From what little he can see of Ardyn’s expression, he looks amused at Noct’s protective reflexes.

“How sweet. Worry not, Noct. I’ve ensured no one can interrupt us.”

“Shut up,” Noctis says, and since it’s more effective at getting Ardyn to stop talking, he drags him back into a kiss.

The smell of iron and arousal is stronger, and the sounds of their heavy breathing are louder within the newly enclosed space. With every touch, Noct’s blood runs hotter, his arms wrapping around Ardyn’s neck, his hands twisting into red hair. Noctis rolls his hips with increasing desperation against Ardyn’s lap, against the matching hardness between his legs.

Ardyn encourages him, feeds off the broken moans falling between them, the quiet _pleasepleaseplease_ that he earns with every thrust upwards.

Noctis comes like that, rutting in the Chancellors lap, wrapped in his arms, and ensconced within his own wings.

He collapses onto Ardyn, weak and trembling with aftershocks of pleasure.

A gentle kiss is pressed to his brow. “You’ve made an absolute mess of yourself.”

He sounds pleased, almost possessive.

Noctis looks down at his damp, torn, blood-stained fatigues. “There was no saving these pants anyway.”

An alarm sounds, and Ardyn stands suddenly, steadying Noctis against him. Ardyn is silent for a moment, staring into space, brows furrowed in concentration before he’s moving again, walking Noctis out of the cage, hand upon his upper arm. There’s a sharp buzz and the collar around Noctis’ neck clatters to the ground uselessly.

Noctis trips over his feet as he’s dragged forward. “Wait – what’s going on - ”

Ardyn lifts a hand. With a screaming roar of metal, the wall of the airship blasts away, winds gusting violently into the chamber through the ripped open hole. Noctis yells as he’s almost pulled out, but Ardyn keeps his hold on him as they look out. There are glimpses of trees beneath the clouds.

“You don’t have much time before we leave Lucis and then you’ll have the empire’s anti-aircraft weapons to deal with. Your friends are still in the outskirts of Old Lestallum where you left them.”

He sounds like a commanding Chancellor now. It’s jarring, hearing Ardyn speak plainly and without the playful taunting his voice always seems to carry. He’s healed Noctis. Kissed him. _More_. And now he’s helping Noctis escape.

There are too many missing pieces, too many loose threads that Noctis can’t connect.

Alarms are blaring even louder now, and someone is yelling, banging loudly on the chamber door.

Noctis looks down at Lucis, his homeland gradually disappearing through the layer of clouds. He glances back up at Ardyn’s serious expression.

Without thinking, Noctis throws his arms around the man and _jumps_.

Ardyn curses and struggles as they both fall, Noctis’ wings extend into flight, flapping hard against gravity, fighting to keep up with their combined weight.

The ground is coming up to meet them quickly as Noctis strains with every beat of his wings.

“You ungrateful brat,” Ardyn snarls at him incredulously. With that same unprecedented strength, he wrenches Noctis’ hands from his coat. Noctis grabs for him frantically as Ardyn begins to fall away.

“What are you doing?” he yells, preparing to dive after him.

Suddenly, a flurry of white feathers bursts past him, filling the sky as large wings burst forth from Ardyn’s back and the man twists mid-air, rising above Noctis with two powerful flaps.

Ardyn stares down at Noctis, framed by six wings, his wingspan far longer than Noct’s and reminiscent of his father’s at his fullest extent.

In the next moment, the sunlight shines through and Noctis looks on in horror as he sees begins to see the oily, oozing tar staining the elegant white, the dark patches of rot giving way to the flesh and bone underneath.

They face each other, wings of royal black and wings of sullied white.

He’s never seen anything so beautiful and so heart-wrenching.

Ardyn sees his pity and responds with a look of contempt. “Save your sympathy for some other poor fool.”

“Who _are_ you?” Noctis cries out.

Above them, the airships’ guns begin turning, the long barrels moving in their direction. Ardyn lifts another hand, and they stutter, the machinery grinding loudly as it fights to move.

“Leave now, Your Majesty. We shall meet again soon enough.”

Noctis flies up until they’re eye-level.

“Fine, but you’re telling me the truth next time. No more lies.”

“If the Gods permit.” It isn’t a promise, but a small concession at least.

Swallowing, Noctis tears his eyes away from Ardyn and glances around the open sky. He concentrates briefly, searching for the threads of his friends once again.

Three little blue lights reach out, pulsing in the distance.

Noctis turns and dives, hand clutched tightly to a stained white feather.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** Thank you so much for reading. If you enjoyed this or any of my fics, please leave a quick _< 3!_  
>   
>  **Twitter** : [@starrynoctsky](https://twitter.com/starrynoctsky)


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